Welcome

This blog is a collaborative effort between two TESL students from IPGM Kampus Pulau Pinang, namely Anak Pak Man and also Phyto Hystrix. This blog serves the purpose of being the creative outlet for these two kids and at the same time being the medium for them to improve their written English. It is hoped that whatever that is written here will entertain the readers as much as it entertains them.

The Twitty.

The Pedestrians.

Followers

"Malin, can you get the basket on the table for me?" asked Alex to his beautiful daughter.

"No problem daddy!" the cute 6 year-old replied with a beaming smile.

He could have done it himself, but asking her to do it instilled the sense of independence in her, and for some reason, he felt that she was going to need it. He didn't want his only daughter to end up a spoiled brat like most well-to-do only children that he knows, he thought as he climbed into the big SsangYong Rexton.

"What do you think you're doing?" Marlia's voice penetrating his pool of thought. "Why did you ask Malin to carry the basket? Why did we hire Mak Eton if we're just going to subject Malin to child labour?" the suppressed fury evident in the soft but angry tone in her voice.

Mak Eton carried both Malin and the aforementioned basket into the backseat of the MPV and buckled the child's seat belt, tugging at it twice to make sure that it was securely fastened. With a kiss on the cheek, Mak Eton closed the door and waved goodbye to the seemingly happy family that was off for a picnic in the park.

Alex didn't get to spend much time with his family as the firm took up most (if not all) of his time. Unlike other jobs, his didn't allow a whole weeks' holiday as the firm he was working in, although highly successful, was relatively a small one in size. There were only 4 lawyers on it, and him being the youngest of them all, took up most of the petty cases that turn up, which were quite a bit. It was even hard to locate a free weekend on his packed schedule. So on rare occasions like this, when cases weren't flying in, were times that he wanted to spend with his family. Scratch that, with his daughter, Malin.

Malin seemed to change every time Alex looked at her, more and more beautiful every time he laid his eyes on her. Oh, how quickly children grow up, he thought to himself as he glimpsed at his offspring through the rear-view mirror and broke a smile only a proud father could give.

"So how's kindie Malin?" Alex asked as he kept his eyes on his daughter's through the mirror which at the moment, serves the sole purpose of connecting a father's eyes to his daughter's.

"Huh?" Malin looked up from her observations of the road in front.

This brought a slight chuckle to Alex's throat. He started again. "I said, how.."

"HEEYYY! TRUCK!!" Marlia's shriek cut his question short.

Alex finally took his eyes off the mirror and glanced to his right and sure enough, right on his right hand side a truck was coming at a considerable speed towards his side of the MPV.

He woke up after a considerable amount of time, about twenty feet away from the accident site on the lawn of somebody's home.

The Rexton was a wreck. It seemed that the whole of the driver's seat and part of the car's bonnet had been completely crushed. Gas and smoke filled the air, that pungent smell so associated with a busted engine and the smell of burnt tyres filled the noses of the onlookers.

However, by some miracle, the passenger's seat was still intact, and the door was open. Marlia was crying and wailing for help as she pulled out Malin, dear Malin from the back of the car. He saw a cut above her left eyebrow and upon seeing it, his legs burst into action.

"Easy there big fella!" an old man in a black suit blocked his path. Alex stopped right in time to avoid a second collision.

"Get out of the way! My daughter's hurt!" shouted Alex without giving the old man a second look.

"Oh, your daughter's hurt? How about you? You've just been in an accident. Are you okay?" asked the man calmly, hands clasped in front of himself.

"Of course I'm fine!" and upon saying these words, he realised it. Fine? How can he be fine? He felt himself, his face, arms, body. No blood. No scars. No cuts, no wounds, no bruises, no anything. Crap.

And with the obvious horror that was shone from Alex's face, the man in the suit snapped his fingers, and poof, they were in a room of infinite whiteness.

Ain't, would go better finding a needle,in a haystack,in the middle of noon,with no magnets. What has that got to do with this? Nothing. What's too hard? Like,if I challenge you-it definitely won't be ThAt hard... ;) Ok? Cube try test..?